Just Another Sniper
by RedShocktrooper
Summary: A National Sniper has second thoughts. Oneshot, Battlefield Heroes. Perhaps could be seen as a Serious Parody?


Just Another Sniper

A Battlefield Heroes Fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own the game in which this fic is set in. Battlefield Heroes is property of Electronic Arts and DICE, and I do not make a single Battefund from this fic.

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I looked through the scope of my rifle, on an unaware Royal gunner below. They act so primitive, so inhuman.

But every time I kill one of them, a small bit of me dies.

_Bang_. There goes a son.

_Pow._ There goes a father.

_Pop_. There goes a husband.

Most of them are pretty young, probably no older than nineteen or twenty at the most. The occasional officer who has devoted his life to the King, but mostly the lowly privates and corporals fall in my crosshairs.

For what reason? Because we allegedly cheated in the Olympics a few years back, I end the lives of young men with so much to live for?

Piss weak excuse for war. We may as well have no reason for it at all, only killing each other for giggles.

Many years ago, I would have gleefully killed each and every one of the Royals I look down on. I was...

another young and eager soldier ready to serve and die for his fatherland.

I've waited too long for my shot. The royal ducks behind a wall, not even noticing me. I lower my rifle, turn behind the light, and pull out a cigarette.

I hear something. The sounds of feet coming up the ladder. I draw my service pistol, slinging my rifle over my shoulder.

I look down the ladder, seeing a Royal commando coming up for a good sniping spot. Probably one so cocky with himself that he just snipes and stabs.

An amateur's mistake.

He looks up the ladder to see my pistol staring him in the eye. I hesitate, knowing full well both the amount of Royal blood on my hands, and the amount of hate he probably held for me.

Perhaps I killed a brother of his, or maybe even his father in a prior war?

Whatever it was he thinks I did to him (and I may have done it), he is intent on getting back at me. He draws his knife.

I plant a Parabellum round in his skull, as he plummets lifelessly to the earth.

That look in his eyes as I pulled the trigger. The look so many royals before him have produced, but I normally never see it, too busy cycling my rifle.

That blank look of no emotion. I know it will haunt me for life.

A Grenade. He had friends.

I dive for what little cover I can find from the grenade, but this leaves me wide open for any fool with a gun, and the Royals, inexperienced as they may be, are no fools.

Below, two gunners start firing at me. I pull out my rifle, but my right arm is struck by round, as it falls limp at my side, and my rifle to the earth below.

Two soldiers have climbed up the ladder, and are about to open fire. They have their submachine guns ready...

I jump to the ground below. I make a grunt of pain as I hit the ground.

I run in the direction of national army territory, as bullets fly past me. With my good arm, I pull out an elixir that will help me run faster, and ignore the pain.

I am about to drink it when a Royal bullet breaks the small bottle with the blue liquid in it. I look in the direction it came from. A Sniper. A bad shot, but a sniper none the less.

I dive into the tall grass, hoping to obscure his vision enough to buy me some time to bandage myself. No such luck. The royals have a tank chasing me.

I've almost made it. I can see the national soldiers and gunners and commandos now. I wave, screaming for a medic.

A round strikes my leg, and I collapse. I keep pulling myself forward with my left arm, as I struggle to keep going.

So close... The National soldiers are running towards me.

A round strikes my back. I cough, and blood comes out.

The soldiers get closer, but fall back. I scream for them, but the tank has chased them off.

Damn it.

I scream louder, as the royals close in more. A round strikes my left shoulder.

I cannot move. I can only scream, and only barely.

A royal comes up behind me, shotgun in his hands. He points it at me, and cocks it.

"_Bitte, soldat... hilfe mir..._" I say weakly as I cough up more blood.

He says "No" in reply.

...

It is dark and cold. So very cold...


End file.
